


The Way I Tend To Be

by thefangirlingdead



Series: It's Not Living (If It's Not With You) - Universe [7]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Oh man okay so, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Telekinetic Klaus, serious conversations, this is a rough one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 16:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18286394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefangirlingdead/pseuds/thefangirlingdead
Summary: Dave's death has haunted Klaus ever since Vietnam, even after Klaus managed to conjure him, but he hasn't had the heart to tell Dave (or anyone else, for that matter) about it. Everything is bound to come to a head eventually, though.(AKA, Klaus has been through some messed up stuff in the past year or so. This is him dealing with it.)





	The Way I Tend To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man. Alright, here we go. 
> 
> This was a rough one, so big forewarning just to kick things off, this chapter has quite a few flashbacks to Klaus' time in Vietnam and discusses his PTSD and trauma a bit. There is also a pretty through description of a panic attack in here. Just tread carefully! 
> 
> (There are a ton more notes at the end, I just don't want to spoil anything)
> 
> _Some days I wake up dazed my dear,_   
>  _And I don't know where I am._   
>  _I've been running now so long I'm scared_   
>  _I've forgotten how to stand._   
>  _And I stand alone in airport bars_   
>  _And gather thoughts to think:_   
>  _That if all I had was one long road_   
>  _It could drive a man to drink._
> 
> _But then I remember you,_  
>  _And the way you shine like truth in all you do._  
>  _And if you remembered me,_  
>  _You could save me from the way I tend to be._  
>  \- [The Way I Tend To Be](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cf5O2M5GaEA) \- Frank Turner

_ The first thing that Klaus registers is the heat. The humidity. It’s something that clings to your skin and settles in your bones, makes you feel like you’re melting when it’s at its worst, and constantly damp at its best. Right now, Klaus longs for air conditioning, a cool glass of ice water or even a cold shower, but instead, he’s hunkered down in a foxhole, screaming at his fellow soldiers over the sound of gunfire. It’s dark, but constant flashes of light illuminate their faces. Dark, but not cold. The humidity still sticks to him like a layer of clothing that he can’t shed.  _

_ The sound of gunfire is deafening, the screaming of his friends and soldiers bone-chilling. _

_ Klaus turns after a moment to shout something at Dave - Dave, who’s always right by his side, he calls Klaus his right-hand man - but when he does so, everything shifts in a way that makes his stomach sick. Suddenly, Klaus is alone in the forest, and everything has gone absolutely silent. The only thing that he can hear is the crunching of foliage underneath his boots, the wind whispering through the trees. _

_ “Dave?” Klaus’ voice sounds too loud in his ears and immediately, he winces, hoping that the enemy hasn’t heard him. He should be quiet, he knows, but Dave was just at his side a moment ago, and now he’s nowhere to be seen. Klaus needs to find him, needs to make sure he’s alright.  _

_ “Dave!” Klaus calls again, spinning on his heel and then - _

_ Then, suddenly, the world is shifting once more and he’s standing at the mouth of an old stone building. A building he knows well, because he spent hours upon hours inside of it as a child, against his will. Even now, as an adult, the sight of it sends a chill through his body, rattling his bones. Suddenly, the humidity doesn’t sound so bad compared to this, to the ice cold terror that floods Klaus’ senses at the realization that he’s standing at the mouth of the mausoleum.  _

_ And then, he hears the voices.  _

_ At first, it’s just muffled chatter, far away enough that he can’t make out any distinct words, but as he stands there, staring into the inky black cavern, he can hear his name among the noise, ringing out clear into the dark night. _

_ “Klaus… Klaus, help me… Help, Klaus, Klaus, Klaus!” _

_ “No,” he mutters, shaking his head as he backs away from the entryway, “No, no, no, this isn’t real. You’re not real, you’re -” _

_ “Klaus?” _

_ A single voice rises above the rest. Scared. Confused. Alone. _

_ Klaus feels his heart stop.  _

_ “Dave?” he calls, his breath catching in his throat.  _

_ “Klaus? Is that you? Where are you?” Dave’s voice sounds desperate, shaky. It makes Klaus want to be sick.  _

_ He takes a trembling breath, feet moving forward on their own volition. “Dave!” His voice echoes through the mausoleum.  _

_ “Klaus!”  _

_ Another voice breaks through the cacophony, this time, a bit brighter, a voice he’s known all his life.  _

_ “Allison?” he calls back, because no, it can’t be… _

_ “Klaus, help us, please!” _

_ “Diego?” _

_ “Klaus, we need you!” _

_ “Ben?”  _

_ Without thinking, Klaus’ legs carry him forward, down, down into the darkness, until the mausoleum swallows him whole. Then, he’s falling, the floor giving way beneath him, and he lets himself hope that maybe, this is it… maybe, it’ll all be over.  _

_ But then, he’s landing with a thud on a hard floor. Klaus doesn’t have much time to gather his senses before the gunfire starts up again, and he’s jumping into action.  _

_ This time is different, though. This time, he’s not lying in a foxhole or running through the jungle or blanketed in humidity, weapon at his side. No, this time, the automatic fire comes from masked figures who are quickly making their approach through the aisles of the Icarus Theatre, weapons drawn, aiming to kill.  _

_ Klaus ducks behind a row of seats, heart hammering in his chest, and scans his surroundings for a weapon, something, anything to use against them.  _

_ And that’s when Klaus sees him.  _

_ Two rows over, slumped just beneath a row of seats is a man in military fatigues, face down on the floor, blood pooling around his still body.  _

_ Dave. _

_ Klaus doesn’t think, he just moves. Low and fast, Klaus sprints across the aisle, dodging gunfire and screaming his lover’s name. _

_ No, no, no, not again. He can’t die like this, not again. Not here, not when they’re so close to beating this fucking thing.  _

_ When Klaus reaches him, his hands are already trembling. He grasps Dave’s shoulder, turning him over, and -  _

_ And it’s like history repeating itself. _

_ Dave’s eyelids flutter - he’s still alive, barely - but when he opens his mouth to speak or scream or breathe, he’s choking on blood, gurgling, gasping, crimson red flowing from his mouth. Weak hands reach up to grasp at Klaus, begging for help, and once again, Klaus feels completely and utterly helpless.  _

_ “Medic!” he screams before he remembers where he is, that nobody is coming to his aid, “We need a medic!” _

_ Desperate, Klaus reaches down with bloody, trembling hands, cupping Dave’s cheek, pulling his upper body up into an embrace. “No, Dave, no,” he sobs, “Not like this, you can’t - we can’t -” _

_ Lost in his own grief, Klaus doesn’t notice when the masked figure approaches him until it’s too late, until they’re standing just in front of him, weapon drawn.  _

_ And, as they take aim, barrel pointed at Klaus’ face, Klaus gives in, gives up. He’s sick of fighting, sick of losing, sick of hurting. He just wants it all to be over… _

_ The masked man pulls the trigger and - _

\- and then, Klaus is waking with a sharp gasp of air, body lurching forward in bed. 

It takes a few moments for Klaus to come down, to still his racing heart and realize where he is, that he’s here, at home, safe. Alive. For a few moments, the darkness of his bedroom envelops him, suffocating him just like the humidity back in Vietnam. Weak, trembling hands reach out in the darkness, searching for something,  _ anything  _ to hold onto, but he finds nothing, so Klaus curls in on himself like a child, drawing his knees up to his chest, taking deep, shuddering breaths. 

It’s only when he presses his face to his knees that Klaus realizes that he’s been crying, that his face is damp to the touch, and  _ fuck. _ He’s had some bad dreams in the months following Vietnam and the apocalypse and losing Dave, but this one was particularly rough.

“Just a dream,” he sighs to himself, reasoning that if he says it out loud, it’ll make it easier to come down, easier to stop his hands from shaking, his heart from racing.

What he  _ doesn’t  _ expect, is the voice that calls out to him in the darkness. 

“Klaus? Are you okay?” 

It’s Dave, of course, it’s _ always _ Dave, but Klaus can’t help the way he jumps at the unexpected company, suddenly even  _ more _ on edge than he was before. That, and he feels embarrassed, ashamed. How much had Dave heard? How much had he seen? 

With a still-shaking hand, Klaus reaches out blindly for the lamp next to his bed and flicks it on, warm light illuminating the dark. It doesn’t take long for him to spy Dave, standing just inside his closed door, watching him with wide, worried eyes, frozen in place. Just the sight of him is enough to calm Klaus’ racing heart just a little bit, bringing him back down to earth. It doesn’t necessarily make him feel less embarrassed about waking up from a nightmare crying like a baby, but he can deal with that. 

Knees still pulled to his chest, Klaus scrubs his hands over his face and up into his hair, wiping away any residual wetness as he moves. “Yeah,” he mutters, voice still rough with sleep, “I’m good.”

Dave doesn’t seem to buy it completely, but it  _ does _ get him moving, crossing Klaus’ room to sit next to his feet on the bed. He’s quiet for a moment, unable to touch Klaus in his current state, but Klaus knows the words are coming before he even says them. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The moment is reminiscent of one that they shared a hotel room back in Vietnam, when Klaus really opened up to Dave for the first time. He remembers Dave asking him the same question -  _ do you wanna talk about it?  _ \- and Klaus had been unable to stop himself from spilling his guts. If he had to pinpoint an exact moment that he knew he was in love with Dave, that was it, hands down.  

But now, Klaus really  _ doesn’t _ feel like telling Dave about his nightmare. He doesn’t want to tell Dave that he has dreams of him dying frequently, that the image of it haunts him even now, even though he’s able to see and touch and kiss him just about every single day. It doesn’t change the fact that he  _ is _ dead, and there’s nothing Klaus can do about it. 

Klaus decides that Dave doesn’t need to know how haunted by his death he is. 

So, even though he doesn’t want to shut him out, Klaus simply shakes his head back and forth. “Just the usual,” he mumbles, “Don’t worry about it.”

And Dave, bless his heart, doesn’t pry. He doesn’t force Klaus to talk about anything he doesn’t want to. And  _ fuck, _ what did Klaus do to deserve someone like him? 

After a beat of silence, Klaus asks, “What time is it?”

“Half past five,” Dave answers softly.

_ Fuck it, _ Klaus decides. He’s up now, might as well make the most of his day. 

“I’m gonna make some breakfast,” he announces after a moment of thought, stretching as he swings his legs through Dave and over the edge of his bed. “Care to join me?”

Dave watches him for a moment, as if his mind is trying to catch up - Klaus had  _ just _ been crying, after all - but it doesn’t take long before he’s nodding and standing. 

In the back of his mind, Klaus  _ knows _ that the conversation isn’t over, but he’s grateful that Dave doesn’t push the subject and instead, chooses to follow him out of his bedroom and down the dimly lit hallway to the kitchen.

There’s a pack of waffles in the back of the freezer, and while they’ve been sitting there forgotten for a couple of months and are likely freezer-burnt, Klaus settles on them for breakfast, working quietly in the kitchen. On the other side of the room, Dave sits at the table, quiet, but the company isn’t unwelcome. Klaus won’t admit it, but he doesn’t want to be alone right now. Just Dave’s presence is enough to ground him, to help wash out some of the residual images from his nightmare. 

What Klaus  _ isn’t  _ ready for, though, is sibling interaction at six in the morning, but that’s exactly what he’s about to get, he realizes, when he hears the telltale creak of floorboards a few minutes later, as someone exits their bedroom upstairs and begins to make their way down into the kitchen.

Klaus knows that it’s Luther before the other man even rounds the corner. He can tell by his footsteps, the way he lumbers through the hall, as if he’s still getting used to his large body, all these years later. So when he finally appears in the doorway, Klaus doesn’t even spare him a second glance, he simply motions with his fork and mumbles, mouth full of waffle and syrup, “There’s coffee.” 

Luther pauses for a moment in apparent surprise that Klaus is already up before him, but it only lasts a few seconds before he’s muttering a sleepy, “Thanks,” and heading straight for the coffee pot.

And for a few minutes, it’s quiet in the kitchen as Klaus shovels sticky-sweet waffles into his mouth and Luther busies himself with a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal. Luther takes the seat across from Klaus, and for a few blissful, silent moments, Klaus is naive enough to think he’ll get away with sharing the kitchen with his brother without having to speak to him. It’s not that he doesn’t  _ like _ Luther, it’s just that the two have never really seen eye to eye on much, so small talk isn’t really  _ a thing _ between them.

However, apparently Luther is feeling particularly chatty this morning. “You’re up early,” he comments around a spoonful of cereal. 

Klaus huffs a soft laugh. “Wanted to get a head start on the day,” he bullshits, a quirk to his lip. He’s good at this - deflecting conversation - but what he doesn’t expect is Luther’s searching gaze in response. When his brother finally lays eyes on him, and  _ properly _ looks at him, not just a passing glance, he raises his eyebrows, surprised. 

“Woah man, you look like shit,” Luther mutters. 

Klaus offers Luther a smile and a sarcastic,  _ “Thank you.” _

But he must  _ really _ look bad, because then, Luther asks, “Are you alright?”

And  _ jesus, _ it’s the second time he’s heard that today. Does he  _ really  _ look that bad? Maybe he should have made a pit stop in front of a mirror before coming down for breakfast. 

This time, he doesn’t deflect Luther’s question, but instead just replies, “Yeah. Just didn’t sleep well.”

Luther hums as if he understands, then, after fixing Klaus with a long, searching look, he returns to his coffee and cereal. And for a moment, Klaus assumes that that’s it. Luther isn’t going to pry - he rarely does - and Klaus will be able to finish his breakfast in peace. 

The silence doesn’t last though. “Wanna talk about it?” Luther asks. 

Klaus snorts out a half laugh before swallowing down some shitty, sarcastic comment about Luther trying to be a good brother -  _ you’ve never wanted to talk about my feelings before, so why start now? _ \- and eventually, he shakes his head, muttering out a short, “No.” 

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate that Luther is  _ trying, _ but it’s not necessarily something that he wants to open up to  _ Number One _ about. If he’s going to talk about his shitty nightmares and likely PTSD with anyone, it’ll be Dave. Maybe Ben. Not Luther. No offense. 

To his right, Klaus can feel Dave watching him with a heavy gaze. He’s sure that the other man  _ wants  _ to say something, but he decides against it right now, for one reason or another, even though Luther wouldn’t be able to hear him. 

Satisfied with the silence, Klaus digs back into his frozen waffle, reaching out to douse it in more syrup, but just as he takes another bite, Luther speaks again. 

“When I came home, it was a rough adjustment,” he says suddenly, and when Klaus glances up at him, his eyes are trained on the table in front of him. “I’d wake in the morning, gasping for air, thinking I was choking, that I wasn’t wearing my suit and I was going to suffocate or something… that I was alone again.”

Luther shakes his head at the memory, then adds, “It’s so stupid, but I couldn’t help it. I can’t tell you how many times I had dreams like that.  _ Hell, _ I still do. I guess the brain does weird things, when you’ve been through something traumatic… like it thinks it’s protecting you.”

And Klaus just… stares. He doesn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting Luther to open up to him like this, wasn’t expecting this moment of vulnerability from his otherwise strong and fearless brother. Klaus isn’t stupid, he knows that Luther has his own shit to work though, but he never thought that he’d been in the same place before. 

At his side, invisible to Luther, Dave stares with wide eyes as well. 

“What I’m getting at,” Luther continues, shaking Klaus from his thoughts, “Is that whatever you went through… I know it’s not an easy adjustment, but you’re not alone. You can talk to me… any of us, really.”

Klaus swallows, considering Luther’s words. He’s right in that aspect - Klaus knows that he  _ isn’t  _ alone. Every single person living (and dead) under this roof harbors some kind of fucked up trauma, even if they hide it well. Klaus isn’t the only one, and he knows that, but…

Well, he doesn’t  _ want _ to talk about it. He’s used to ignoring his problems until they go away. It’s more painful, more difficult to face it head-on. 

So instead, Klaus does what he does best. He deflects. 

“Maybe it was a sex dream,” Klaus says at last, shaking off Luther’s comforting words as if they’re discussing the weather. “Didn’t tell you  _ why _ I didn’t sleep well, dear brother.”

Luther snorts out a surprised laugh despite himself, but steels his face quickly.  _ “Jesus, _ Klaus. I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.” 

At that, Klaus stands, suddenly finished with his breakfast, despite the remaining waffle on his plate. He regards Luther for a moment before he replies, “Thanks for the talk, big bro. I’ll keep it in mind.” 

“You know, he’s just trying to help,” Dave suggests just a few minutes later, after Klaus decides that he’s had enough  _ sibling bonding _ for the day and retreats back to his bedroom. He’s flipping through articles of clothing while Dave sits on his bed, watching him, and he has to bite his tongue for a second because Dave’s words almost sound like something  _ Ben  _ would say and  _ shit, _ those two have been hanging out a lot lately, haven’t they?

“Yeah, I get it. It’s just… weird,” Klaus offers in response. He doesn’t turn to face Dave when he speaks, too busy pulling an old floral button-up from his closet. It’s neon pink and teal, a little bit too bright for his mood right now, but maybe it’ll help cheer him up. It’s soft as hell, too, and he doesn’t mind that. “We’ve never really been one for sibling heart-to-hearts, if you know what I mean.”

Klaus turns then, pulling the floral shirt onto his bare torso. He gives himself a quick once-over and decides to forego an undershirt - it looks fine like this, unbuttoned and flowy, showing off his chest and stomach. Buttoning it would feel too… constricting. He watches the way Dave looks him up and down before speaking again. 

“Well, maybe he’s trying to change,” Dave replies with a shrug. His tone is light, not argumentative in the slightest, and Klaus has to remind himself that Dave is just looking out for him. That doesn’t stop him from brisling a little, however, when the other man asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? You know… with someone who was there with you?”

And  _ oh. _ Of course Dave knows that it’s about Vietnam. It’s  _ always _ about Vietnam, but Klaus’ dreams last night were a little more than that. It’s comical, really, that fighting in a fucking  _ war _ barely compares to the rest of the trauma that Klaus has been through in his life, rather than overshadowing it. In the back of his mind, he realizes how completely fucked up that is, but  _ no, _ he doesn’t really want to talk about it. 

“Oh,  _ Davey,” _ Klaus murmurs instead, fixing the other man with a smile, taking a few steps forward. “I know you’re hoping it was the sex dream, but -”

_ “Klaus.” _

Now, Dave’s voice is stern, and  _ oh. _ He’s not fucking around. Right. This is serious. Klaus knows that. 

He sighs, but doesn’t waver, outstretching his arms for a moment before letting them fall to his sides. “Alright,  _ fine,” _ he mutters, “Sorry. I’m fine, I promise. I just… don’t want to talk about it. But when I do -”

“I’m here,” Dave offers gently, his features softening slightly. 

And, although he doesn’t  _ want  _ to have this conversation right now, Klaus also doesn’t want to shut Dave out completely. So he offers him a soft smile in return. “I know,” he replies, “Thank you.”

They  _ don’t  _ talk about it, though. At least, not for the rest of the morning or even that afternoon. In fact, if Klaus is being honest, he  _ never _ planned on talking about it, especially with Dave. The last thing he needs is to tell his  _ ghost _ boyfriend how he has nightmares about his death on a regular basis. And for the most part, it’s easy. As the day moves on, it’s easy for Klaus to compartmentalize and push the remnants of his dream to the back of his mind, nearly forgetting about it by the time that Five approaches him later that afternoon, mentioning something about a new training technique he’d like to try. 

But things don’t always go according to plan, and it was bound to come to a head eventually… Klaus just didn’t think that it would happen so soon.

By the time Klaus steps out into the courtyard late that afternoon, Dave and Ben trailing close behind (as they generally tend to do during training sessions), Klaus has all but forgotten about his nightmare and the state he’d been in this morning. Although, it’s fairly easy to distract himself, when he sees the scene he’s stepping into.

Number Five, Diego and Vanya are waiting for him in the courtyard, but that’s not what catches Klaus’ attention as soon as he steps out the doors. No, instead, his eyes are drawn to the massive amount of tennis balls piled in the lawn, which is…  _ unexpected, _ to say the least. 

“You finally get me that puppy I’ve always wanted?” Klaus asks with mock excitement, “You shouldn’t have!”

“Ha,” Five replies with an eye roll. “No, dumbass, these are for training.”

“What a nice way to talk to your pupil,” Klaus shoots back. 

“Well, when you start taking things seriously, I’ll -”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Klaus cuts Five off as he approaches, wagging a finger in his direction, “You’re starting to sound like dear old dad, Five.”

_ “Jesus,” _ Five mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t acknowledge Klaus’ offhand comment, though. Instead, he gets back on track.  _ “As I was saying, _ these are for your training.”

“How do hundreds of tennis balls relate to conjuring the dead?” Ben asks from behind Klaus, unseen by the rest of his siblings, and Klaus motions to him, as if everyone else can hear his question. 

“Yeah, what Ben said,” Klaus agrees, “What do tennis balls have to do with conjuring the dead?”

“They’re  _ not _ for conjuring the dead,” Five explains, and Klaus wants to applaud him for his patience because he  _ knows _ he’s being difficult, but he can’t help it. He enjoys pushing his brother’s buttons. “While you’ve definitely gotten better at harnessing your telekinesis, it won’t be much help if you can’t use it in the moment… so this is to test your reflexes.”

To Klaus’ defense, he really  _ does _ try not to laugh, but the whole situation is pretty comical. So, when he snorts out a choked-off laugh, and Five raises his eyebrows, crossing his arms. 

“What’s so funny?” he questions.

“Oh, I’m just imagining what dad would think… watching us work together like this,” Klaus muses, strolling over to the tennis balls. He plucks one from the pile and tosses it up, stopping it in mid-air just before it falls back to his palm. It levitates in place for a moment before dropping gently into his hand. 

In response, Five actually huffs out a laugh of his own. “He’d be surprised, that’s for sure,” he remarks. 

“He’d never let it show, though,” Klaus continues, shaking his head, “And hell, if this were his idea, he’d never go with something as  _ tame _ as tennis balls. He’d probably make Diego throw his knives at me instead.”

“That’s next week,” Diego deadpans, which even earns a snort from Ben and a smile from Vanya. Klaus tosses the tennis ball at him in response, which Diego catches with ease. 

“Alright,” Klaus finally straightens out his posture, turning to Five again. “So where do we start?”

They start off easy, it turns out. After explaining the training exercise, Five, Diego and Vanya begin by tossing the tennis balls gently at him. It’s nothing too intense, and it almost feels  _ childish, _ honestly, but Klaus is surprised to find that he actually  _ isn’t  _ fast enough to stop all of them. The first couple of balls that Five tosses his way are clearly in his line of sight and Klaus has no problem diverting their path or stopping the objects mid-air, but when he speeds up, or when Diego or Vanya toss a ball at him from the corner of his eye (or even from behind him) he doesn’t stand a chance. 

“Ow!” Klaus yells, spinning on his heel after a particularly hard throw hits him in the back of his head. Behind him, Diego simply grins, throwing another tennis ball his way. The second one, Klaus isn’t able to control, but he does manage to doge its curve. “What the fuck, Diego?”

“You’re not supposed to dodge them,” Diego calls, tossing another ball his way, and  _ fuck,  _ Klaus hates the way he makes it curve. It hits him in the side before he even has a chance to register it. 

“Yeah, well it’s kind of hard to focus when you’re all just  _ throwing shit  _ at me,” Klaus argues, becoming frustrated. 

“That’s the  _ point _ of this exercise,” Five insists from his peripheral vision. 

Klaus turns to face Five, then, eyes narrowed, “Well it’s obviously not working.”

“Not if you don’t  _ focus, _ ” Five argues, throwing another ball in his direction. 

To his defense, Klaus  _ does _ try to focus on the ball stopping in mid-air, but his frustration gets the best of him, and he dodges it at the last second with a muttered curse. 

“He’s right,” Ben says from somewhere behind him, out of his line of sight, “You need to focus. You can do this, Klaus.”

Although Klaus wants nothing more than to shoot a snarky comment back in Ben’s direction, he bites his tongue, because  _ yeah, _ he  _ knows _ he’s right. It’s just  _ hard. _

But he tries.

Instead of saying anything, Klaus lets his body relax, his hands falling to his sides as he closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing, on clearing his mind. It’s something he’s been working on during training with Five, and even more so when he’s alone with Dave. Admittedly, it’s  _ hard _ to get his mind to quiet down, to clear out all thoughts and  _ focus,  _ but he’s determined, damn it.

So when Klaus finally opens his eyes again, he feels a little more centered, a little calmer. 

“Go again,” he utters at last, shooting a resolute look in Five’s direction. 

Five, understanding, simply nods before he’s quickly throwing a couple of tennis balls in Klaus’ direction. And this time around, Klaus successfully stops both objects just a few inches from his body. They levitate in the air for a moment before falling to the ground. 

“Again,” Klaus repeats.

This time, Five takes advantage of his own power, jumping off to Klaus’ right before firing a couple more tennis balls at him, then again to his left. And to Klaus’ own surprise, he manages to stop each object before they reach him. 

He doesn’t celebrate, though, doesn’t stop to think about it. Instead, he keeps a level head, keeps his mind clear.  _ Focuses. _

Klaus doesn’t have to say anything else before Diego and Vanya join in, and although it’s still difficult, stopping objects that come from behind, Klaus manages to control just about every tennis ball thrown at him. Klaus focuses on the energy around him, the movement of his siblings and each object thrown in his direction, and before long, he’s successfully controlling each and every tennis ball, every movement. 

“Come on,” Klaus calls, “Give me more!”

Without argument, Five agrees. Suddenly, his spatial jumps speed up and the pattern is thrown off. It catches Klaus off guard for a moment and he misses a few balls as they pelt his shoulder, his hip and his leg, but he quickly adjusts to the speed and frequency of the throws. It’s insane, he realizes, how clear of mind and focused he feels right now, probably more than he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

It feels good. For once, Klaus feels like he’s in control. 

“That’s more like it!” he yells, a smile spreading across his face, “Come on!”

It seems that that’s enough for Diego and Vanya to go a little harder on him, as well. Each and every curved shot from Diego, Klaus sees coming before it happens. When Vanya uses her powers, it becomes a little bit more unpredictable and a few tennis balls break through, hitting him again before he gets the hang of it, but he’s quick to recover and adapt. 

In the back of his mind, Klaus is reminded of the first time he learned to shoot a gun, back when he was just twelve years old, at some desolate shooting range with his father and siblings, and how the skill had quickly come back to him after practicing for just a little bit in Vietnam. It’s like riding a bike. Obviously, Klaus has never exercised this skill before, so the analogy isn’t completely accurate, but it  _ feels _ the same. Everything just  _ clicks.  _

He’s not sure if  _ that’s _ what flips the switch, or if it's something else... Whether it’s that brief thought of war, or if it’s the intensity of the exercise, the overstimulation or the fact that he’s never quite used his powers to this extent before, but whatever it is, it triggers something inside of him, and by the time Klaus realizes what’s happening, it’s too late to stop it.

One moment, there are bright green tennis balls launching at his face and body, then he’s blinking and suddenly, he’s in the trenches again. Suddenly, it’s dark, and his siblings are nowhere to be found, all he can see is death, dirt, blood and bodies, all he can hear is the sound of gunfire, of screams. 

Without thinking, Klaus hits the ground, his survival instincts kicking in. “Dave?” he calls on reflex, glancing around him for the familiar form of his lover, his best friend. 

But he finds nothing.

Klaus’ heart lurches in his chest. His hands begin to tremble. His head spins.

_ How? How did he end up here again? What’s happening? _

_ Where’s Dave? _

The next thing Klaus knows, he’s curled in on himself, taking shallow, shuddering breaths, willing himself to calm down, to overcome this.

_ This isn’t real, _ he reminds himself through the fog in his mind.  _ This isn’t real, you’re not here. You’re home, with your family. With Dave.You’re okay. _

But, despite his best efforts, Klaus can’t dig himself out of this hole. Not this time. 

Louder than his reassuring thoughts are Klaus’ fears. His memories.

_ Dave is dead. He’s dead, and there’s nothing you can do about it. The world is going to end, and you can’t save it.  _

Distantly, Klaus hears voices, but he can’t fully latch onto them, try as he might.

“What’s happening? Is he okay?”

_ Diego? Is that you? _

“I think he’s having a panic attack. Help me get him up.”

_ Five? _

“Klaus, listen to me. You’re okay, you’re going to be okay. I’m right here.”

_ Dave! It’s Dave, he - _

Klaus opens his eyes, but Dave isn’t there. He’s alone on the battlefield, surrounded by lifeless bodies, blood and grime.  

Klaus curls in on himself again, squeezing his eyes shut once more. Maybe, if he just lies here, it’ll all go away.

Maybe, if he just lies here, he’ll disappear, too. Wouldn’t that be nice?

But then,  _ then, _ there’s a hand reaching out, first touching his shoulder, then cradling his face. It’s tentative, gentle and soft, but it’s enough to pull a gasping breath from Klaus’ lips.

_ “Klaus, listen to the sound of my voice.” _

And is that…  _ Vanya? _

Klaus latches onto the sound of her soft, reassuring tone

_ “You’re having a panic attack, but you’re going to be okay,”  _ she murmurs,  _ “Focus on me. Can you do that?” _

Klaus opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, so instead, he manages a short nod, attempting to suck in another deep breath. He feels like a fish out of water, his lungs aching for air, head spinning, limbs on fire. But he  _ tries _ to focus on Vanya. 

_ “Take deep breaths,” _ she urges gently,  _ “In... and out.” _

Klaus tries to suck in another deep breath alongside Vanya, but it comes in trembling gasps. 

_ “You’re doing great,” _ Vanya encourages,  _ “Just keep breathing.”  _

_ “Fuck,” _ Klaus gasps wetly, and then suddenly, everything feels a little bit lighter. He takes another shuddering breath and lets it out on a shaky exhale. 

_ “Just like that,” _ Vanya continues,  _ “I’m right here with you. We’re outside of the academy right now, remember? You’re going to be okay. You’re home. You’re safe.” _

Klaus nods against Vanya’s surprisingly sturdy form, his body relaxing just a bit more.

Eventually, when he opens his eyes again, horrified of what he’ll find, he’s temporarily blinded by the bright sunlight, the green grass, the blue sky and  _ right, _ Vanya was right. He’s home. He’s safe. 

_ Fuck. _

Wordlessly, after he has a moment to catch himself, Klaus glances up from where he's kneeling on the ground, first at his sister, who looks more in control and sure of herself than he’s ever seen her. He reaches up, grasping at her wrist in a brief display of affection, and she smiles down at him, reassuring and calm. 

In the back of his mind, Klaus realizes how far they’ve come in the months that they’ve been here. It feels like an eternity since Five brought them here, but he doesn’t voice that. He can’t, not right now.

Instead, Klaus looks to his other siblings - to Five and Diego’s concerned faces - then searches out Ben, who stands just on the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed, face openly relieved, but watchful. 

Then, he’s turning, looking for the one person he wants to see more than anyone else, and breathes a heavy sigh of relief when he finds Dave, kneeling just a few feet behind Vanya, eyes wide, frozen on the spot. Klaus tries to offer him a reassuring smile, but he knows it probably doesn’t do much, not now, not after what just happened, and he has to stop the negative thoughts from flooding his senses. 

_ He should have talked to Dave this morning, when he offered. He should have told him about his nightmare. He should have told him about the countless others that came before it. Maybe, if he hadn’t kept it all bottled up, this wouldn’t have happened, maybe -  _

Klaus shakes the thought from his head. No use in dwelling on what he  _ should _ have done. He can only focus on what he _can_ change.

He swallows then, taking another deep breath before pushing himself up on shaky limbs. Vanya stands with him, a steadying hand on his shoulder, while he continues to hold onto her other wrist. “Uh, thanks,” Klaus finally mutters, his voice rough, thick. He doesn’t speak much, for fear of breaking down again if he does. It’s so stupid, he feels so weak. It’s a stark contrast to the way he felt not ten minutes ago, calm and cool and in control of his powers. 

“You good?” Diego asks, taking a step forward, arms outstretched as if he can help.

In the back of his mind, Klaus  _ wishes _ that he could. He wants nothing more than for his brother to take it all away, but he knows that it doesn’t work like that. 

Instead, Klaus waves a hand at him, nodding shortly, “Yeah, ‘m good. Think I just need to go lay down.” 

“Do you need -” Diego starts, but Klaus cuts him off.

“I can make it up on my own,” he insists, and when his siblings just watch him as if he’s something fragile, as if he’ll break if Vanya lets go of him (which is comical, considering how tiny she really is) he cracks a smile, even if it’s hard. “I’m fine,” he insists, “Promise. Just need to relax.”

Thankfully, Vanya seems to understand. Eyes still trained on Klaus’ face, she nods, releasing him from her grip. He lets go of her wrist, but not before sparing her a reassuring look. “Thanks…” he mutters, “Again. I’ll be fine.”

And then, with shaky legs, Klaus is stepping away from his siblings, leaving them standing still, watching him carefully. Even Five, for all he has seen in his long life, is speechless as he watches Klaus walk away, and if Klaus weren’t so out of it, he’d shoot a snarky remark his way.

Maybe later. 

Instead, Klaus quietly makes his way back inside, acutely aware of the way that even Ben and Dave watch him, as if they’re unsure if they should follow. 

It isn’t until about ten minutes later, as Klaus sits on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, taking deep, sturdy breaths, that he senses Dave’s presence again. And without even looking up, Klaus feels a wave of guilt washing over him. He should have known that this was going to come to a head eventually, that he’d have to face this shit at some point, it’s just…

Well, it’s a lot easier to compartmentalize and stow away your fears and traumas and nightmares when you’re too fucked up to even think straight. While Klaus is certainly glad that he’s sober, he also wouldn’t mind the numbness that came along with being high or drunk every once in a while. Facing your problems head-on is  _ hard. _ Harder than getting sober in the first place, even, he decides. 

And the worst part is, Dave had  _ tried _ to get him to talk about it, had offered to be a shoulder to lean on, even when Klaus can’t  _ physically _ lean on him. And what had Klaus done? He had dismissed him, had attempted to lock those thoughts and fears and nightmares away, as if they wouldn’t continue to haunt him, lurking around every corner when he least expects it. 

He should have known better. He should have just trusted Dave.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus chokes out at last, breaking the silence between them before Dave even has a chance to say anything. Head still in his hands, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes, Klaus can already feel the tears welling up and  _ fuck,  _ he doesn’t want Dave to see him like this, but it was bound to happen eventually. 

_ You didn’t sign up for this, _ Klaus wants to say, _ you don’t have to stay. _

But before he has a chance to say anything else, Dave is speaking

_ “Klaus…” _ His voice sounds absolutely  _ devastated, _ and Klaus’ heart breaks just a little bit more at just the sound of his own name.  _ He _ did this to Dave, he -

“Klaus,” Dave repeats, suddenly much closer to him, and Klaus realizes, that if he were to loop up, open his eyes, he’s see the other man kneeling in front of him. “Look at me,” he requests gently, a solid finger brushing just under Klaus’ chin.

And  _ god, _ Klaus should be used to the way that Dave becomes corporeal when he’s emotional like this, but it’s still surprising, even now. He jumps slightly at the contact, and Dave’s hand recoils. 

Klaus shakes his head back and forth weakly, feeling small under the weight of Dave’s gaze. “I can’t - Dave, I -”

_ “Hey,” _ Dave murmurs gently. He doesn’t make a move to touch Klaus again, but he doesn’t leave, either. “It’s okay. You’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

Klaus can’t help but choke out a wet laugh at that. Finally, he looks up at Dave, a sad, twisted smile finding its way onto his lips. “I’m  _ not _ okay,” he mutters at last, “I’m so fucked up, Dave and -” Klaus cuts himself off, unable to finish his thought before he feels a sob rocking through his body. He shakes his head again, averting his gaze. 

Dave doesn’t argue with him, but instead, reaches out again, cupping his cheek gently, hesitantly, holding him still. After a beat of silence, he asks, “Do remember that night we spent in the hotel, when you first told me you loved me?”

Klaus swallows, his eyes darting back up to Dave’s face again. He nods

“And do you remember what I said to you, when you told me that you were  _ fucked up?” _

Klaus doesn’t say anything then, instead just watches Dave with wide eyes, waiting for him to finish, to get to his point. He doesn’t know  _ what _ to say, if he’s being honest, because,  _ yes, _ of course he remembers that conversation, but so much has changed since then. Dave barely even knew him, the  _ real _ him, back then. He had no way of knowing just how messed up shit was going to get. Klaus wouldn’t blame him if he went back on his word, but -

But, then, Dave continues, cutting his thoughts short. “I told you that it didn’t matter, remember?” he says gently, “That we’d get through it… that you had me along for the ride. That hasn’t changed, Klaus.”

Finally, Klaus mutts out a wet,  _ “Fuck,” _ turning his head again, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes once more. “Fuck, Dave - I -”

He doesn’t know what to say. What could he  _ possibly _ say to make this alright? It’s so fucked up, all of this, yet Dave is so  _ perfect, _ even now. Patient and vulnerable and understanding as ever, Dave is still here while Klaus slowly attempts to figure his shit out. 

“I can go,” Dave continues, his thumb brushing a stray tear away from Klaus’ cheek, “If you need some time alone. But I’m here if you need me. That’ll never change.”

“Don’t go,” Klaus chokes out at last, reaching out to grab Dave’s arm, holding him in place. “Don’t go, I’m sorry, I just -  _ shit _ \- I’ve never had to deal with _ everything _ like this before and I… I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

The words all come out at once, but it feels like a weight lifted off of his chest, saying them out loud.

Slowly, Dave lifts his other hand to Klaus’ cheek as well, cupping his face with tender fingers. “It’s okay,” he assures, “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

And  _ god, _ Klaus wants to believe him, but it’s  _ hard. _ It’s hard, when it feels like such an uphill battle. He’d been doing so well, and right now, he feels the same way he did when he first got clean. He reminds himself that he got through  _ that, _ so he should be able to get through  _ this, _ too. Right?

“Okay,” Klaus mutters, nodding his head as if it’ll convince him, “Okay.”

Then, Dave is leaning forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. It’s a simple, gentle display of affection, but it has Klaus’ heart swelling, fresh tears falling from his eyes. And  _ fuck, _ he feels so weak, but Dave eases the weight of it, even if just a little bit. At the very least, he makes Klaus believe that it might get better.

Klaus takes another deep breath once Dave’s lips leave his forehead, and with eyes closed, he murmurs, “I think I'm ready to talk about it.”

Just those words alone are enough to lift a weight from Klaus’ chest. Even if it’s horrifying, even if he really  _ doesn’t _ want to tell Dave about his nightmares and fears and trauma, he knows that he should. And he will. 

“Yeah,” Dave replies at last, his own voice thick with emotion. “Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to explore the more serious side of Klaus' relationship with Dave in this piece, so what better way than to make them have some really serious conversations?
> 
> I also realized I've barely written any Luther or Vanya in this universe, so I wanted to include them in this one as well. I definitely didn't anticipate a little heart to heart between Luther and Klaus, but I'm really happy with how that bit turned out. 
> 
> And VANYA. I really wanted her to be the one to help Klaus through his panic attack because I figured she of all people would have experience in that department. 
> 
> I promise the next one will be much more lighthearted and/or happy! 
> 
> ❤️


End file.
